Discovering Wells of Strength in Vulnerability
There's nothing worse than having to admit that one is a control freak who wants things done according to one's terms and who would try to avoid any situation that involves dependence on others. Nothing at all, I guess, other than having to actually go through a moment of extreme vulnerability that robs one of a great measure of control and makes one needy and dependent on others for support.
The great news is that one does not die after going through both.
The truth that surprised me was that having gone through both made me a stronger person because I discovered the strength that came from being loved and cared for during a moment of weakness. My physical limits allowed me to recognize that my needs are as important as the needs of others, that strength is not equal to always being in control.
Moments like this open us up to new ways of seeing and doing things and this opening up is both a source and a manifestation of inner strength. How annoyed I'd get after the nth person I ran into asked what happened to me and where I had the procedure done as if they would know where the Center for Muscolskeletal Medicine, which sounded like a tongue-twister, was. Thankfully, I was able to go beyond the annoyance by looking at these questions as expressions of concern.
It was not external strength I discovered though. I also discovered a deeper sense of strength in my adaptation skills. Left with just one functioning arm and hand, my non-dominant at that, I learned how my foot, knees, legs, teeth, and forehead in lieu of my left hand. And how soul-expanding this learning was.
My initial upset over my limited mobility was reframed when I saw the experience as a blessing in disguise. Didn't I wish for lazy days in bed, days spent sleeping, reading, and contemplating about the year that had gone by and the one that is just beginning to unfold? I got that. . . though not in a silver platter.
From people who expressed pity and messages that said, "kawawa ka naman," I learned that I didn't have to be defined by what others say and think. What counts more is how I perceive my situation, how I feel about myself, and who I really am deep down inside.
The great news is that one does not die after going through both.
The truth that surprised me was that having gone through both made me a stronger person because I discovered the strength that came from being loved and cared for during a moment of weakness. My physical limits allowed me to recognize that my needs are as important as the needs of others, that strength is not equal to always being in control.
Moments like this open us up to new ways of seeing and doing things and this opening up is both a source and a manifestation of inner strength. How annoyed I'd get after the nth person I ran into asked what happened to me and where I had the procedure done as if they would know where the Center for Muscolskeletal Medicine, which sounded like a tongue-twister, was. Thankfully, I was able to go beyond the annoyance by looking at these questions as expressions of concern.
It was not external strength I discovered though. I also discovered a deeper sense of strength in my adaptation skills. Left with just one functioning arm and hand, my non-dominant at that, I learned how my foot, knees, legs, teeth, and forehead in lieu of my left hand. And how soul-expanding this learning was.
My initial upset over my limited mobility was reframed when I saw the experience as a blessing in disguise. Didn't I wish for lazy days in bed, days spent sleeping, reading, and contemplating about the year that had gone by and the one that is just beginning to unfold? I got that. . . though not in a silver platter.
From people who expressed pity and messages that said, "kawawa ka naman," I learned that I didn't have to be defined by what others say and think. What counts more is how I perceive my situation, how I feel about myself, and who I really am deep down inside.
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